My whole life, I’ve been compared to my dad. The only times I’m told that I look like my mom is when he’s not there with us. We share the same piercing eyes, the same cheeky grin, and the same sense of humor, a bit darker than my mom would like it.
My dad used to have a middle part. By the time I was born, my mom had long fixed that. But sometimes when I step out of the shower, hair still soaking wet, I stick my hand in the middle and part the golden sea to see my father’s face staring back at me. I did that once in front of my mom and she rushed to the photo albums, pulling out a photo of my dad from his first years in America. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought it was my own face returning my gaze.
I could name his traits for hours, his ambition, his dedication, his hard work, but I find him the most in the small things. He’s seen every movie ever, or at least the good ones, and I don’t really need to watch any of them, because I’d rather have him explain it to me. In a similar vein, his bedtime stories were always the best, transporting me to a world beyond my wildest dreams, full of adventures usually centered around my favorite teddy bear. I’d beg him to tell me another one long past my bedtime.
I’m an only child, but my dad would always make time to play games with me. In our first house, we played soccer in the yard, and since it was only us two, we’d pretend that the furniture and playground equipment were our teammates, more often than not named Johnny. (I hated that Johnny, always getting in the way.) Dad taught me how to win and how to lose, though he probably let me win more times than I’d like to admit. He taught me how to play chess. I was fortunate enough to learn from a master – he was a chess champion growing up, competing in tournaments across Poland. He taught me how to use each and every piece to my advantage – the sturdy rook, the strategic bishop, the creative knight – and to embrace their limitations, not letting them stop me from victory. He taught me the importance of the pawn, small but mighty, and to protect them, for one day they would dare to be great and grow up.
Looking back, I realize that I was the one he dedicated his life to protecting. My father is all the words I named before – ambitious, dedicated, hardworking – and it’s all for my sake. He works extremely hard and to this day makes sure that I have everything I could possibly dream of. This summer, he not only paid for me to attend a prestigious writing conference, but drove me five hours northwest to Colgate University for me to pursue my dream of becoming a writer.
My dad was the chessmaster moving this pawn to the end of the board, and now that I’ve arrived, I need to decide who I become. The good news is, I have an incredible blueprint in front of me, a man who dedicated his life to building a firm foundation in mine. The world would be better off with more men like my dad, and I’m working on becoming one.
Happy Birthday, Dad.